


AMOUREUX

by WetePentz



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetePentz/pseuds/WetePentz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are young and drunk bodies dancing down disaster streets, running away from our demons and crashing into dead ends. Skin of cream and lips of lies, dead dreams and living nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The clouds had been extra gray today; sun being casted out by dark puffs, leaving the world below in an inky quiet. New Jersey had always been quiet on days like these and to say that I didn't enjoy it would be a lie; I enjoyed a break from the boisterous streets of Newark. The silence was eerie yet convivial and I was more than happy with it.

Violence was still at large and mafias were taking young boys' innocence like candy taken from a baby. Police were regularly inspecting homes, abandoned buildings thought to have had recent activity. 

"Just precaution," they'd say, "just looking around." If you were suspected of anything, they'd take you in immediately. Children were murdered  _daily_. Mother's left with nothing but memories and never saying goodbye.

Walking down these streets, breathing in my surroundings, I realized I'd never go anywhere else. I can't see myself leaving this place; without it I'd be lost.

My parents weren't the richest, living from pay check to paycheck, but we survived and we never complained. We weren't the type of people to bleat about our problems, we learned from them, and that made me proud to be part of the family I was apart of. 

I grew up being the only child; I was lonely, but I didn't beg for a brother or sister. I liked being alone at times, it gave me time to sort out my thoughts and fantasize about things that will probably never happen (not that I cared.) But other times being alone scared the shit out of me; I never had many friends. 

A persona non grata. 

And I was totally okay with that. I didn't mind being outcasted. It was just another thing about being a teenager, I guess. Because, yes, social class did matter, and yes, it's complete and utter bullshit, but that was society.

And society is complete and utter bullshit.

 


	2. Noticing and being noticed

Children weren't allowed to be children, I had realized, after a dreadfully wet walk home. No one was allowed to be their own person, not only in the small town of Newark, but everywhere. Pressured to be a creation of someone else's mind, strictly being what society wanted you to be.

And that disheartened me.

I had lost hope on changing the world years ago, when I had realized that it was too late. The world is a messed up place, and nobody could change that even if they tried to. 

There was no denying that.

But, I did descern the fact that an individual could change another person's world. And I did believe in that (though I didn't believe in much anything anymore.) I believe that anyone could change a person's perspective, but no one could change a person. 

A person could not be simply altered, they will remain the same person; just two sided. 

And I had mastered the art perfectly.

On the outside, I was quiet and unbelievably unoticed by surrounding peers; a nobody in lack of better word. 

On the inside, though, I was an endless cycle of emotion and thought. I thought about a lot of things, my head was jam-packed with passion and longing and loss and living and dying.

I thought about love and how it was inexorable.

I thought about loss and how it was persistent.

I thought about death and how it was alluring.

But I never spoke about these things; that reason being possibly sent to a mental institution.

I stayed quiet for my own reasons. Like Gerard had  his reasons for being absolutely edgy. And I was, to say the least, captivated by that.

Gerard liked to draw; he drew a lot. He was psychedelic, and I envied that because it was hard to find nowadays.

He was the only 25 year old that actually made an effort to try and talk to me (though he didn't talk much.) And I was very grateful for that. But he was nervous most of the time and he fidgeted around some, he had a stutter and a habbit of chewing his nails. 

But I don't see it as flaws. 

I saw it as artistry.

Because in all honesty, he was fucked up, so was I, and he was attractive (something I lacked for sure) and there was a way he said my name that made my heart to thump very hard against my chest. 

And to say that I wasn't falling for him would be a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> (Amoureux means lover in French)


End file.
